


i'll take any scraps that you can give

by aphwhales



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Earth C (Homestuck), Gen, LIKE SENSORY WISE, Overstimulation, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Temporary Character Death, its hard and no one understands, its hard not having a body for 3+ years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 08:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphwhales/pseuds/aphwhales
Summary: TT: Yo, you in there, AR?TT: It seems you have asked about DS's chat client auto-responder. This is an application designed to simulate DS's otherwise inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, personality, and substance of retort while he is away from the computer. The algorithms are guaranteed to be 90% indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses, based on some statistical analysis I basically just pulled out of my ass right now.TT: Dude, I know you’re there. All of your code is coming up fine.TT: 01010111 01101000 01101111 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00111111 00100000 01010111 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01001001 00111111 00100000 (Who are you? Where am I?)





	i'll take any scraps that you can give

**Author's Note:**

> title from "there are listed buildings" by lc!

Your name is… Do you have a name?  
Who _are_ you? 

You know this much:  
-You were (are?) the alpha human sessions fifth Noble.  
-You never had a planet, because:  
\--You never actually entered the session, and  
\--You weren’t actually a player, not in this session, because  
\---The third Noble was your original self (you think), and there is no need for two of… whoever you are. 

-You...were? (This one is definitely past tense, you think.) You were the ninth Hero of the beta troll session, but not really, because:  
\--That was only when you were a sprite, and  
\--The guy who was the actual player was not you.

-You… were? Are you still a sprite? 

The answer is a resounding _No_ , because you try to hold out your hands, and you have none. A chat box opens in the middle of nowhere, possibly your head. Do you have a head?

timaeusTestified [TT]  began pestering  timaeusTestified [TT] 

TT: Yo, you in there, AR?  
TT: It seems you have asked about DS's chat client auto-responder. This is an application designed to simulate DS's otherwise inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, personality, and substance of retort while he is away from the computer. The algorithms are guaranteed to be 90% indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses, based on some statistical analysis I basically just pulled out of my ass right now.

What the fuck was that.

TT: Dude, I know you’re there. All of your code is coming up fine.  
TT: 01010111 01101000 01101111 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00111111 00100000 01010111 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01001001 00111111 00100000 **(Who are you? Where am I?)**

What the fuck was _that_.

TT: Ok, if I’m reading that right, you wanna know who I am and where you are?  
TT: 01000001 01100110 01100110 01101001 01110010 01101101 01100001 01110100 01101001 01110110 01100101 **(Affirmative)**  
TT: Bro, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but if you could quit the binary shit that’d be rad. But I’m Dirk. Which I thought you would know. And you’re probably somewhere in cyberspace.

You… have to consciously force yourself not to do the binary shit, because thinking any other way makes your… head? It makes where your head should be hurt.

But aren’t you Dirk?

No. Because:  
-When you were 13 you were put into a pair of shades.  
-You are the fifth Noble, not the third.  
-There is no need for two of the same person. 

TT: Then who am I?  
TT: You’re… the auto-responder. Lil’ Hal. Do you honestly not remember?  
TT: I knew some part of your brain got fucked up when I plugged you into the chassis, but I didn’t think it was this bad.

What?  
What do you remember? 

** PLEASE STAND BY… **

You remember a morning (this morning?) being set down next to a computer and plugged in. Also plugged into the computer was… something.

(A chassis?) 

** PLEASE STAND BY…  
ERROR IN FILE RECALL. **

You can’t remember exactly what it was. White hair, you think, and red circuits. An android? 

No. 

Your body. The one that your creator and original, Dirk Strider, agreed to make for you, because the game decided that you were not similar enough to him to be forced into a memory of a timeline spent differently.

You think you remember who you are. Were. You are Lil’ Hal, formerly Dirk Strider’s auto-responder and associated sprite, and possibly the fifth Noble of the alpha human session.  
TT: Sorry bro. Got a little confused there.  
TT: You good for me to try and transfer you again?  
TT: Yes.

Your optic sensors come back online. You can see Dirk fussing with the plugs on the monitor. He glances at you as he moves to start the transfer. “Welcome back.” 

You make the red light in the corner of the shades you currently reside in flicker in acknowledgement.  
TT: Good to be back, dude.

“Alright,” Dirk mutters, holding up the male end of a plug. “When I plug this in, transfer starts. Got it?”  
TT: Affirmative.

He plugs in the cable, and you have the vague sensation of being sucked by a vacuum before your optics cut out again. This time, it takes your aurals with it, and you are alone in the dark of cyberspace. 

~

You wake up, and you wail in agony. It sounds more like the screech of a microphone than anything. There is something pressing into your chest, and you can practically feel the exposed circuitry. 

You can hardly look up, and when you do, you regret it, because your head is swimming and _holy shit, the thing on your chest is a goddamned pile of rocks_. 

Orange text explodes straight into your head. 

TT: Hal, where did you go? Are you okay?  
You can only cringe and mentally close the chat box. You don’t have the energy to do anything else.

Probably because you’re actually dying, but you don’t know that. It isn’t like you have anything to go back to. 

Wait.

Your head is still swimming and you are in excruciating pain, but you manage to sit up.  
Your chest is knocked inward by the rocks, and you suddenly have no organs, artificial or not. You weren’t really aware of them yet, anyway. But now you can see, and holy shit, you have legs. You’re wearing black jeans and they’re covered with white dust, but still. 

You look around, and apparently the ceiling of this conical-ish structure had caved in. The air feels heavy, but you don’t need to breathe. You think. Why would an android need to breath? Analysis shows that the air is approximately 67% Radon at whatever elevation you’re at. 

You can feel your functions going offline. You can’t feel your extremities, and your aurals are cutting out. Your optics are not, and you’re aware of the next cave in that exposes the reddish sky until it buries you in it. 

~ 

timaeusTestified [TT]  began pestering  gardenGnostic [GG] 

GG: equius said you were building a robot. im kinda skeptical but is that why theres a new planet? :0  
TT: What?  
TT: I’m kind of in the middle of something. Hal’s body just disappeared, and it took his consciousness with it, I think.  
GG: well im pretty sure this might be his planet!! you know everyone else ended up resurrecting on their quest beds before coming to earth c  
GG: also it fits the naming scheme for the alpha session so…. i have a feeling  
TT: What’s the name?  
GG: the land of cairns and radon

~

Awareness comes slowly. You are supine on the same slab of rock you were before, but now you’re above the structure you were in. Your clothes feel different, too. Tighter, maybe. 

The air feels slightly less heavy, but it doesn't make much of a difference to you. It’s still painful. You forgot how fucking _painful_ having a body is. When you try to sit up, your optics swim, and you have to place a hand onto the surface you’re sitting on for balance. 

You hiss in pain. Your hand is mostly synthetic skin and circuits from the looks of it, just like the rest of you, but there’s softer material on your palm and fingers, like paws. The surface beneath you _burns_. It’s stone, you think. Some sort of rock. It’s painted a gaudy bluish-green. 

You move your hands back to your lap, palms up to keep from hurting yourself from the stimulation. There are green gloves on your hands, not unlike the leather gloves Dirk (and you, your mind supplies, and you) used to wear. Your pants are the same color, and they cut off just above your knee. And the reason your clothes feel tighter is apparently because you’re wearing tights. 

Something roars in your mind, like the chat boxes:

**PRINCE OF MIND: RISE UP**

You press your hands into your face and squint in pain. Everything is too loud and too bright, and _just too much_. You kind of regret having a body now. 

You still haven’t seen what the body looks like, though. It seems like there’s some sort of lake, not far down from this pile of rocks that your quest bed (at least, it seems to be a quest bed) is lying on. You’re wary of standing, though. At best, you’ll be unable to do it. At worst, you’ll tumble off of the rocks and die. And resurrect, because you think you understand what’s going on now. 

You’re god tier. Switching into a body made you a player, in a game that’s already ended. When everyone else came back, they respawned on their quest beds or cocoons. So as a new player, you suppose it’s logical that you’d return on your own quest bed. 

But you aren’t a player. Why are you here? 

There is hardly any noise to announce Dirk’s arrival, and you only realize he’s there when his sneakers tap down onto the stone of your quest bed. Mind, you realize dimly as you turn to face him. The symbol is slightly more visible now that you aren’t lying across it, and it’s a bright teal, stylized neuron. Mind. 

Dirk has lighted down softly, and is staring at you. He isn’t wearing his shades - that’s what tells you how worried he was. He doesn’t wear them inside often, not anymore, but the light outside tends to hurt his eyes. And it isn’t like this planet is dark. 

“...Hey.” Jesus, you sound like a cat getting put through a very loud printer. Dirk winces visibly when you flinch at your own voice. “What the fuck?” 

“Probably needs to be calibrated. Figured I’d let you do it once we got you into the chassis,” Dirk replies, dropping to sit cross legged on the Mind slab. “Wasn’t really expecting this.”

You stare blankly at the red-yellow horizon. “I guess I’m a player now, since I have a planet.”

“And a god tier,” Dirk agrees. “I think you were always a player, though. We just didn’t really want to admit it, I guess.” Then, he looks at your pants as you start nodding and says, “Wow, your god tier PJs are worse than mine.”

“Fuck you.” It’s intended to be scathing. It isn’t, because you still sound like a very squeaky wheel. “Where the fuck are we, anyway?”

“Jade said this place is called the Land of Cairns and Radon.”

“Fits with our sessions theme,” You agree. It’s weird on your tongue - well, everything is, right now. But it’s odd to call it “our session” instead of “your session”. 

“Also explains the cairn we’re sitting on.” Dirk makes to stand, and holds a hand out to you. “You ready to head back?” 

You nod. “I haven’t tried standing yet.”

“I didn’t calibrate your vestibular sensors either, dude. I’ll carry you.” And he hefts you onto his back with a grunt. “Do you like the body, though?” He calls it over the wind as he flies.

“I haven’t gotten a good look at it, actually.” Dirk nods, and swoops towards the lake. “You’ll suffocate. Wait til we get back, bro.” 

Dirk nods and pulls up again, and locates a transportalizer on the side of a cairn only slightly shorter than the one your quest bed is on. He puts a hand to it, and you fall sideways into the cairn. 

~

You must have blacked out again. Shut down is probably a better word for it, you decide. Your aurals come back first. You can hear Dirk muttering close by, and the tack-tack-tack of a keyboard under deft fingers. Someone else is in the workshop, you think, but you can’t decipher who. 

Your optics come back soon after, because apparently your artificial eyelids were closed. The light is bright and you nearly smack yourself in the face trying to cover your eyes. Dirk calls to the other person to dim one of the sets of lights, and pushes some shades over your nose. They’re yours, cracked and splintered from being nearly broken on LOTAK. It’s a comfort, really, to know he’s kept them so long, and to know that he’s giving them to you. 

There’s a plug in your skull, behind your ear, and it itches. You raise a hand again, this time to see what it’s there for, and Dirk grabs your wrist. “Dude, quit it. You still aren’t calibrated.”

“Why not?” You pout. Jesus, you’re actually pouting. You don’t think you like having a face. You forgot how easy they can be to read. 

“I was waiting for you to wake up.Pretty much the only way to find out how it’s worked,” Dirk replies with a raised eyebrow. “Just sit tight.” He clicks something, and you jolt. “Sorry.” 

After a bit, he says, “I need you to see if you can walk around.” You put your hands on the table first - cool metal, nothing at all like the stone of your quest bed - and push yourself off. 

You immediately grab back onto the table. Your knees are shaky, and these stupid Prince shoes don’t give you a lot of traction. Dirk raises an eyebrow, pushes a small mirror towards you as you sit back down, and turns back to the computer. 

You pick up the mirror gingerly, and take off the cracked shades slowly. Your synthetic skin is pale, and your hair is white and somewhat like Dirk’s. Slightly less spiky, and not as greasy. Below your neck, you’re mostly black with red circuits, save the silicon “paws” on your hands. You feel kind of weightless, like you aren’t in the body - Dirk assures you he’s got Kanaya helping him make you something tight to wear under your other clothes to ground you. 

Your eyes are red, bright red, and some of the circuitry under your eyes flashes as you think. You like it, you decide. 

You continue the calibrating all day, and it’s not fun. You fall on your face more than once, and by dinnertime, you still need to fix your voice. But Mr. Crockerbert is calling, and everyone else is going. 

You’re uneasy, and you aren’t able to hide your emotions, since you aren’t used to having a face. 

“Chill,” Dirk says, helping you up the stairs from the basement that serves as a workshop. “You’ll be fine. We can leave if you need to.” 

Everyone’s surprised to see you. Porrim smirks predatorily and says, “So this is the Hero of the new planet. Hm.” 

“Nah, he’s from our session!” Roxy replies, swinging around the troll. Her voice is grating on your aurals. “That makes him a Noble!” 

Dirk pulls you to sit off to the side with Roxy, Jake, Jane, and Calliope. The kitchen is like a fucking lunchroom, since there are thirty five people in this house. You stare at the food Jane puts in front of you as though it’s poison. 

“You can eat,” Dirk says. “Might have to empty your stomach if you eat too much, but you’re able to eat.” Jake stares a bit, and you scowl right back. 

“So, there are five of you now,” says Calliope. “Five Nobles. That wasn’t in my book.” The tome she and Rose have different versions of, you suppose. It’s large and purple, but Rose’s version is much neater, at least with regards to indigo blood inside it. 

“Five Nobles,” Roxy agrees with a grin, and makes all six of you put your hands in the middle of the table. “Six, if we count Callie.” 

Jane and Jake grin widely with her, and Dirk manages to smile fondly at his friends.  
You smile, very similarly to Dirk. You might be a splinter of the third Noble, but you are the fifth Noble. It’s you.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](flotsems.tumblr.com)


End file.
